A marriage not much forced
by TartanPhoenix
Summary: Their world has survived the war, but at what cost? The population is shrinking, and the Ministry decides to take drastic action. What does that mean for those people left behind?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All the characters within belong to J.. I own nothing!

A marriage not much forced

The thunder clapped, the windows, shook, and the fire flared a most familiar green, giving the room a rather disturbing glow. Albus unfurled himself, not even bothering to dust the soot from his robes. The weather raged, but he seethed as his thoughts drifted back to his earlier meetings. Dread flared through him as he moved across his office and though the door to his private chambers. The heat from the fire washed over him, relaxing stiff muscles and draining away what little energy he still had. He looked up at the soft gasp that slipped past her lips; apparently he did look as bad as he felt, and a soft snort slipped past his lips at the thought.

He shook his head slightly as she stood to meet him, grasping his hand to pull his further into the room. The dread returned; he could feel his hand tremble in hers, and she squeezed it tightly in response. "Minerva, please," he muttered, pulling her back down to sit beside him on the sofa. He sank into the burgundy cushions with a sigh. He could feel her warmth through her robes as their thighs pressed together, making him swallow thickly. He could see her worry in the set of her shoulders and the tense line of her lips, but this was one time he couldn't alley her fears. It had been such a long day full of negotiation, reasoning, and utter blackmail. There was nothing left to be done. Her fingers tightened around his, and the lump in his throat grew, cutting off his air. How could he tell her?

He slipped off into his own world, and the reality hit her; it was done. Her heart wanted to break free of her chest, and the cry of outrage tried to claw its way up her throat. The pressure of it was almost too much as the faces of a thousand men flashed through her mind in an instant. She didn't understand how any rational person could be so hideously stupid. She remember what he mother said when she returned from her first year of Hogwarts. After a year of History of Magic, one resounding question had battered her mind. Tucked into the side of her mother's body one night, it finally found a voice.

"Mum, why have there been so many wars? You always say to talk out my problems, but our History class was nothing more than war after war. Why do so many people need to die before they start talking?" Her mother's fingers ran through her hair, a habit which soothed the mother as much daughter. "Oh love, I wish I could tell you. Sometimes it's for land, sometimes money, sometimes ideas. And sometimes, you just find a person who likes the violence, the sheer devastation it causes. But," she said, pulling Minerva closer, "there's something you have to realize, and I want you to listen to me, because this is important. People are odd creatures, capable of the most awesome acts of mercy and debauchery. A single person is, normally, a rational, caring thing. People can be the stupidest entity on the planet as they let the mass take responsibility for individual action. But, frightened people are the most dangerous animals on the planet. They react out of fear or pain without thought to what their actions may mean. So, they pass laws, they fight, they kill, and it's only when that fear is replaced by something greater that the fighting can stop and the talking begin. Unfortunately, wars are sometimes necessary love, to protect those whom you love and things in which you believe. Never condemn a person for their fear Minerva, try to understand it and work through it. Save your anger for those who want to harm for the sake of harm. Do you understand?" Minerva looked up at her mother and nodded before curling up again.

It had taken years, but Minerva had finally truly understood as the war began. So many people had died, so many had fled, and so many had betrayed themselves to that fear. Another war had come, and then another, and there were so few of them now. The people were petrified, but that didn't make it right. "You're tired Albus; you should rest." She was surprised to find her thumb running along his knuckles, taking comfort as much as offering it in the gentle caress. He was so tired, so worn. He had aged twenty years since breakfast, and the sight broke her heart for reasons she strictly refused to acknowledge.

He shook his head. "It isn't much, but I was able to extract a few concessions. I have never seen such a poorly written law move so quickly. There were no exemptions, no releases. They wanted to marry off our students Minerva, our children. It wasn't until I pointed out you needed a job to support a family that they were willing to amend it. The dole lines would have been monstrous, and the last thing the Ministry wants to do is pay for their stupidity. Here," he said, pulling out a roll of parchment from his robes, crumpled and worn around the edges. "It's going to be posted in the Prophet in the morning." She took the scroll and unrolled it, tilting it toward the fire.

MA102-9A: Common Marriage Act

Effective from 26. October, 2003 all members of the wizarding society of Great Britain are required to marry within one year of the individual's 21st birthday, with two children to be produced by this marriage within 5 years of the marriage date.

Those persons unable to produce children, through age, disease, or infirmity are exempt, as are those who have already produced the required two children. Appropriate documentation is required. Please contact the newly created Office of Marital Affairs for a complete list of exemptions and requirements.

Those persons that fail that fail to meet these requirements will face including, but not limited to, 5,000 Galleon fine, 3 years in prison, or banishment from the wizarding world. Exemptions for reasons other than those posted in the Office for Marital Affairs will not be considered.

M.O.M.

"Well," was all Minerva could think to say. "Indeed. I'm going to send Fawkes in a few hours to those relevant professors. I don't want them to find out about this at the breakfast table. This isn't something one should learn about over their eggs." He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the headache he could feel building behind his eyes. "It's going to be a quiet morning. Thankfully, most of the staff fulfilled the requirements long ago. Severus and Hermione were heading in this direction anyway, and Robert is still quite dead. So that just leaves Thomas, Sybill, and,"

"Me." Minerva's voice was quiet. She tried to smile, but even she could tell it was more of a grimace. Almost eighty years old, and she was going to be treated like livestock, little more than a brood mare. Between her work and the war, there had been little time for socializing. Most of the men she knew were already married, and the rest she would likely murder in their sleep. She would throw herself into the Themes before she would marry Mundungus. A rare moment of self-pity washed over her as her future began to take shape. "There's no one," she whispered, more to herself than anything.

She felt him shift, pull away slightly, and she was hit by the feeling of loneliness that the loss of his warmth brought about. She was a Gryffindor; she would manage. But his heat returned as he leaned toward her, his hand hot against her cheek. He turned her face toward him, but she refused to heed his voice calling her name, focusing on the rug instead. But, he wouldn't let her hide, not from him. He ducked his head down, resting his forehead against hers, his hand still holding her in place, eyes searching hers. They drifted closed for a moment as he seemed to find the answer, and they opened again with a flash. "Not no one Minerva." His lips glided over her temple, her hairline, as his own tear slipped down to join her own.

There had been too many emotions, too many thoughts in far too short a time. She couldn't think, and for only the second time in her life, Minerva allowed her feelings to dominate. Her hands fisted the front of his midnight blue robes, securing him to her as his lips found the shell of her ear. His breath was hot in her ear, and his heart sped beneath her fingers. "The boys," she gasped out.

His hands slipped up her waist, playing her ribcage like a piano. "I love my sons, but Eliza may complain and Ewen cannot have you."

His voice rumbled through her, his tone stoking the furnace while his words equally soothed and excited her. The questions raged and her blood thrummed; but, she had to be certain. There could be no questions, no doubts. Anything short of complete understanding would kill her.

"Ewen isn't my type…ohhh…not old enough." It took everything she had when he found that one spot on the underside of her jaw, his tongue tracing the slight scar left from a nasty quidditch accident. "Albus…I can't ask…uh god… I can't ask you to do this." She pulled herself away from his lips, the chill racing down her spine only matched by the growl from his throat and the clenching of his hands on her hips.

"You didn't ask." He slid closer still, his warmth overwhelming her as they fell back against the arm of the couch. He surrounded her, completed her, enthralled her. She wanted more. He looked down at her, his eyes the deepest blue and smoldering. A single finger trailed along her cheek, detouring to trace the swell of her lip, before continuing down the slope of her throat. She was flushed, hot, perfect. "Say you'll have me."

In that instant, there was peace. Her heart slowed, her mind calmed, and her hands steadied. The questions no longer mattered. Her fingers curled into the base of his neck, surprised by the heat and the slightest of tremors she felt there. Her other hand reached up and plucked the spectacles from his nose, brushing the softness of his beard as she reached out and dropped his glasses beside her own. Her lips quirked and her eyes shone in the firelight as she pulled him closer. "Don't forget to owl the boys in the morning."

AN: I hope everyone enjoyed that. I haven't decided if it's going to stay a one-shot or if I'll continue.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Please, everyone, remember this story has a M rating for a reason. If this displeases you, turn back now.

The light danced across her eyelids, moving in time with the faint touches gliding along her spine. The fingers trailed every vertebra, every contour, and her body tightened in response. She could hear his steady, deep breathing. Even in sleep the man teased her. She breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of him, of them, and exhaling happily. They had moved from the living room at some point during the night, but she could hardly remember when. The bed was soft, and he was so warm, as she curled further into his side, her lips sliding along salty skin. Minerva was still in a slight state of disbelief, not only of the sudden engagement in which she found herself, but of their subsequent actions. She smiled inwardly to herself. Well, perhaps not of the actions, but of the sheer number, and intensity, of them. In one moment, the Ministry had put them both in an incredibly awkward position, only for Albus to spend hours putting her in incredibly satisfying ones. Minerva felt her cheeks flush as she thought of one position in particular. She had been sure she would die when she found herself on her back, her legs clenching around his head, and his mouth hot. Gods, yes, that had been a wondrous position.

She shook her head at the thought, amazed at the slight heat making its home low in her belly. She stretched slightly, wincing at the twinge she felt from muscles long unused. It had been far too long since anyone had put her through her paces, and it seemed as if she had found the one man in Scotland who was bound and determined to kill her. But, what a way to go! She thought. She propped herself up on her arm, staring down at the man beside her, and her swollen lips curled up. His mouth was slightly open, his moustache fluttering with his breath. The furrows on his forehead were almost gone, and the laugh lines along his eyes seemed more prominent. His broad chest had just a dusting of graying hairs that almost covered up a scar along his left pectoral. Minerva leaned forward slightly. She wondered how she had missed that the night before. In the daylight it was obvious. What did you do? She wondered. The skin was slightly raised, a bit lighter than that surrounding it, and ran from just above his nipple to midway to his shoulder.

She let her finger trail along it while her eyes continued downward. The sheets bunched at his waist, curling just below his hipbones and giving her a wonderful view of the small trail of hair below his bellybutton that drew her eyes further down. She was quickly growing to love that little patch of hair. A thrill passed through her as her finger trailed down his slightly rounded stomach to the small hair patch, and she could feel the muscles tremor and contract beneath her touch. Her heart skipped a beat when a groan slipped past his lips, and just as her fingers hit the sheet, his hand shot up and wrapped itself around her wrist. Minerva felt herself jump and gasp at his sudden movement. She looked to his face and saw his eyes open, his eyes twinkling and a smile wide on his face.

He pulled her closer to him gently by the wrist, his mouth in her hair. "Hello." His voice was thick, heavy, and hoarse from a combination of sleep and his rather vocal responses the night before. His words vibrated through her while her head rested on his chest.

"Hello." Her voice was as hoarse as his, and that fact alone sent another thrill through her. She was as bad as the students. It was wonderful. She lifted her head and teased his lips with her own, drawing them in, nibbling, tantalizing. She nipped his lower lip with her teeth and soothed it with the flat of her tongue. His groaned ripped through her, the sparse hairs on his chest tangling between her questing fingers, tickling her palm. She sighed into his mouth as he rolled them, coming to rest above her. His weight was wonderfully heavy above her, pressing her deep into the mattress. His tongue teased hers, drawing it into his mouth, drawing her into himself. His hands wandered, questing, causing her blood to boil, and then he was pulling away.

Minerva blinked up at him, blue eyes dark and electric, and a flush suffused his face. By the heat she could feel in her cheeks, Minerva was sure it matched her own. She struggled to gain some semblance of control over her breathing, failing miserably. Minerva groaned at the loss of contact, and she arched under him trying to entice him back in. He wouldn't have any of it. Instead, he quirked a smile, teasing her, leaning down to nip her nose before pulling away again. She felt a smile tug at her lips despite herself as she tucked a stray bit of hair behind his ear, caressing his cheek. My silly wizard, she thought. Her shade of lipstick was really not his colour; especially, when it was trailed half way across his cheek. "Tease." She whispered.

"Temptress." He replied warmly. The clock chimed in the corner, breaking the heady silence of the, suddenly far warmer, room. Minerva refused to give up the moment quite yet. They can't have him yet, she told herself. She ran he finger across his forehead, tracing his slightly busy eyebrows, following the line of his jaw, to finally rest on his mouth. Now that she was allowed to touch him, she couldn't seem to stop. Minerva idly wondered if they could simply ward the door and never come out. It was a lovely thought. His eyes had slid closed against the touch. He turned and grazed her palm with his lips, sucking gently on the skin of her palm. "I should probably get up." He voiced the thought, but he didn't move.

"Yes, you probably should." She rubbed the base of his neck, twirling the shorter hairs she found there between her fingers. There were plans to be made, owls to be sent, and this couldn't be done from her bed, no matter how perfect it was. Still, neither of them moved.

Albus sighed and finally managed to lever himself upright. He turned and sat at her hip, sighing at the pull of his muscles and the slight sting at his back. Albus heard the rumple of sheets and a gasp as she sat up. Worried, he turned to look at her, his eyes darkening at the sight of the cream sheets pooling at her waist in the early morning light. This was followed quickly by a sharp hiss from between his teeth. His back arched and burned while her finger traced lightly against one of the many scratches across his shoulders. Two sets of four scratches ran from just below his shoulders down to about mid-back. They were red, but became shallower as they continued. The noise caused her hand to snap back. "Oh, Albus, I'm so sorry!"

Albus could hear the horror in her voice, and he would have none of it. He reached out and ran his hand across her bare stomach, curling around her waist. He leaned in and kissed her warmly. It was supposed to be a quick, reassuring, kiss, but her lips were too inviting and the pull of her mouth too tempting. His fingers curled into the slight dip at the base of her spine while her tongue stroked and teased his. Slowly, he pulled away, tapering off with one last lick on her lower lip. He smiled broadly at the flush that covered Minerva's skin and the slightly glazed look in her eyes. "Don't apologize, Minerva. Never apologize for something like that." His hand flexed, pressing into her skin possessively. He leaned into her, skimming her ear with his lips. "To know I can drive you mad." He paused. His voice roughened. "To know I can make you _scream_. It does wonderful things for my ego."

Heat broke against her in waves, and her fingers had to grip the bed sheets to keep from reaching out for him. If the man wanted to tease, she could as well. "Than I shall have to practice my self-restraint. We can't have your head swelling; the castle's doorways simply aren't wide enough to accommodate. I would hate for you to get stuck. Hold still."

She interrupted herself and slipped from his grasp to sit behind him. Placing her hands gently on his shoulders for balance, she leaned forward until her lips were hovering just above the beginning of the first scratch. With a barely breathed spell, she blew on the first of the marks, watching in satisfaction as it healed over. She repeated the process with each of the marks until his back was clear again. The skin was still red, and would be for a day or two as the remaining tenderness dissipated, but the pain was gone. "It wouldn't do for the Deputy Headmistress to spend the day following around after the Headmaster, giving him a shove to enter every room. People might start to talk."

"Well, we can't have that." He finally stood from the bed and turned. He reached out his hand to her and smiled when she automatically put her hand into his larger one. The breath hitched in his chest as she stood, leaving the sheet on the bed. "Marvelous!" He whispered to himself, but she heard. A flush of pleasure spread across her chest as his eyes darkened. She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled into his chest. "And you are so warm, so handsome, so perfect. Perfect for me."

"Hmm, Minerva." He rested his lips against her hair. Emotion swelled within him as her words sunk in. "Perfect, yes. My Minerva, my perfect Minerva. My perfect love." He kissed her hair once more before tearing himself away, only to rest his chin where lips had been. "I am going to owl the boys after I speak with the staff. I would like to invite them for lunch and tell them here. It's not the sort of thing to explain in a letter or over the Floo. I would like you to be there if you can get away."

"Of course I'll be there." She hesitated. "Are you sure, Albus? I love you. I don't want you to regret...Is this...am I really what you want?"

"For as long as you will have me. I have loved you, desired you, craved you for longer than I dare remember. You are my perfect Minerva." He smiled down at her while wiping away the tear streaking down her cheek. "It will not be easy, Minerva. People will likely talk, and the following months are going to be difficult for our world. And, there are things more troubling to consider." He paused. "You will have to spend the rest of our lives waking up to your eccentric husband, reminding him where he left his socks and that lemon drops are not a fruit in their own right. You will have to spend a lifetime being spoiled within an inch of your life. I will have to find some way to watch you glow and grow large with our children without ravishing you at every opportunity. We will have to cope with being ridiculously happy."

Minerva laughed, dashing away the remaining tears. "All right. But, when we have our first fight, do try and remember I gave you a chance to get away."

He barked out a laugh and reached for the dressing gown lying on the back of a chair. He reached around and draped it across her shoulders, tying the belt loosely. "So long as you promise to throw nothing larger than a flowerpot! I'm getting old, Minerva. My reflexes are not what they used to be."

"I don't know, Albus. Your reflexes seemed quite fine to me."

Albus groaned and took a step back. "Minx." He grabbed his robe from the evening before and shrugged it on. "Everything will be fine, love. We will be fine."

"Promise?"

"I do." He whispered. "I need to go. I will see you at lunch?"

"Wild fifth years couldn't keep me away." She leaned into him and drew his lower lip in between her own, nipping it before sucking gently. He was flushed as she leaned back, smoothing her hands over his shoulders. Albus inhaled as her magic swept over him. It crept into every pore, slipped over every crease, blending seamlessly with his own. When it was over, his robes were clean, pressed, and his hair was smooth and shining. She had even including his favourite pair of soft leather boots. A slight freshening charm polished off the effect.

"Not even married yet, and she's already dressing me. Very impressive spell work, love." With a final kiss, and a well-placed pat, he was gone. Minerva turned and leaned against the door, staring into his rooms with a silly grin plastered to her face. With a final sigh she pushed herself away and stepped toward the shower. Breakfast would come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of her heels clicking through the corridors echoed as she sped up. It had only been six hours since they had parted, four since she had seen him briefly at breakfast, but god, she could barely breathe for want of him. Sun danced through the windows, bathing the stone in warmth and light. Her senses were on edge. She could smell the sulfur in the braziers, see the flecks of dust floating through the air, hear the whisper of the portraits' robes as they moved about in their frames. But best, she could still feel him. She felt him all morning. His fingers along her spine during breakfast when Sybill was weaving along the table with the sherry flowing free and Severus constantly shattering and re-forming his coffee cup. He'd be lucky if Hermione didn't have him at the altar by the end of the week. She could feel his beard brushing her cheek during her first lecture, causing her to lose her concentration, giving the second years a perfect example of what can go wrong without focus. That poor frog would come nowhere near her after that.

She turned the corner and sped up again. She opened her mouth, the gargoyle springing aside so she didn't even slow down as her feet hit the stairs and she was moving upward, closer. The door above opened for her, unprompted, and she stepped in, directly into a pair of arms and lush lips. His mouth was hot and sweet, dragging her down into oblivion as his tongue stroked her own. And then she was flying. Her feet left the floor as he spun her around, clutching her tightly against his broad chest and she was surrounded by his laughter. The deep purple robes bunched under her grasp as she clutched his shoulders, allowing herself on this one occasion to enjoy the childishness of it. Her head fell back and she laughed harder than she had in years, laughed until she was dizzy and light-headed, leaning into him completely when her feet touched the ground. His beard was soft under her cheek, and she wanted little else other than to stay there forever.

"No wild fifth years, I take it?" Albus asked, nipping at her ear before soothing it with a kiss.

Minerva sighed. "No just a second year missing an eyebrow and a rather disturbed frog." She leaned back and saw his raised eyebrow, amusement evident. His mustache was twitching. "Do not smirk at me, Albus Dumbledore. Just for that, I don't think I'll tell you." He laughed at her haughty tone and leaned down to suck on her protruding lip. She didn't quite give in, not yet. It would only set a bad precedent. She needed to at least pretend she could still say no to him.

"You mean, you won't tell me how my Transfiguration professor, my highly qualified and imminently talented Transfiguration professor, managed to set the frog-turned wooden bowl on fire, spooking said eyebrow-less child so badly that she singed off said eyebrow on the first attempt?" He smiled, tweaking her nose and curling his finger in a bit of hair that had fallen from her bun. "I think I can save you that bit, love. What I would love to know above all things at this moment is what caused you to lose focus in the first place? I know it's been a . . . hectic day, but you haven't accidently set something on fire since little Billy O' Flannery came up behind you in the corridor with that snake, spooking you so badly that you blasted him thirty feet with his robes on fire."

"You're assuming that was an accident. I like to think of it more as an unanticipated opportunity at behavioural reform. He spent that whole year peeking in showers, trying to get his hands under skirts, and trying to banish blouses. And he was only 12! He's lucky I only set him on fire. The other seventh years wanted a crack at him." Her tone was indignant, but there was a gleam in her eyes that Albus recognized, one few others got the opportunity to see. She pulled out of his arms, turning her back on him and moving further into the office. She got all of three steps before he wrapped himself around her again, nuzzling the space behind her ear. She couldn't keep her knees from buckling.

"Tell me," he whispered, running a thumb just under her bellybutton, a firm stroke down, a slight pause, a tickle back up. She leant fully into him with the next down stroke, which seemed to end just a touch lower. He was a horribly wonderful man.

"You." Her voice was raspy and heavy, and she could barely see through her lidded eyes. She didn't care. "You seem to have a rather, _decided_, effect on my ability to function. " His arms tightened around her, pulling her hard against him, grinding the very obvious result of her own, effect, against her. "Not at all conducive to an efficient classroom experience," she gasped out, reaching behind her to thread her fingers through his hair, holding him to her. He growled, rolling his hips against her, and biting down on her shoulder. Her breath hitched at the subtle pain but couldn't help tipping her head to the side, giving him better access.

Just as Minerva was about to reach behind her to grasp exactly what she wanted, a voice startled them both. "I should like to remind you both, that you're expecting guests in just under ten minutes. The two of you are worse than the children, I mean really!" With that, Phineas stormed out of his portrait, causing several rounds of chuckling and both Albus and Minerva to jump apart, red in the face, and breathing heavily.

Albus took her hand in his, bringing the palm to his lips and holding it to his cheek. Her lips were swollen, her hair was a mess, and her eyes were only rimmed with green, her pupils wide. She was his. "Connor and Ewen should be here soon."

Minerva nodded, pulling her hand away slowly. "I should . . . I should go freshen myself up." She moved across the office to the small en suite on wobbly legs. It was ridiculous what that man was capable of. It was quickly becoming a certainty that she would never get anything substantive done again. She took another step, definitely needed to take care of a couple things as dampness moved down her leg. She reached the door, pulling it open. "Minerva." She turned and saw him standing in the same place, his eyes burning and his beard an embarrassment. "I love you."

Her breath hitched, and she leaned against the open door, giving him a soft smile. "Love you too, you silly man. Now, go cool yourself off before the boys get here. No point in giving up the jig before we need to." Albus looked down, smoothing his robes as if that would help, and the last thing he heard before the bathroom door close was her laugh.


End file.
